Watatime At Camp Wataxche!

by Molly Blunden

Day 14

Already two weeks into the research mission at Camp Wataxche, wrapped in this female human skin called Eve, and it feels like eight light-years adrift on an aimless asteroid. Everyone on Xeres knows I am the brightest in my class, and yet, that half-wit Borkazoid from another planet not only got to accompany me on what should’ve been a solo operation, but it got the male skin? It is well-documented, the Y-chromosomed have always had the advantage on Earth. And 1985 is no different.

“Your partner Adam will be an asset to your expedition,” Headmaster Gigo explained. “While you are one of our solar system’s brightest analytical minds, we believe the success of the enterprise may be aided by having a colleague who has… social skills.” 

“But a Borkazoid? It can’t string two parsecs together with an infiogram!”

“This may be true, but Borkazoids are very adept at species assimilation. They also possess innate emotional perception, providing us with data that intellectuals such as yourself might not deem important.” Gigo patted my varnyx—an action for placating Xeresians. “We’re counting on you, Eve—you are the first juvenile explorer analogous with the human skinform of a thirteen-year-old female. With your unparalleled mental acuity, we will finally decode the erratic behaviors of adolescent earthlings.”

Fourteen days into the mission, I have collected no relevant data and I’m flummoxed by this nightly campfire ritual. It is a humid 83°F; the moon is full—there is no need for light or heat. I cannot ascertain the need to incinerate foliage whilst singing about someone coming around a mountain when she feels like it. 

To make matters worse, I see the Borkaz—oops, Adam across the firepit, laughing and elbowing the human boys. Headmaster Gigo was right; he has achieved full integration. He looks just like them, wild and filthy—even his ‘Watatime at Camp Wataxche!’ t-shirt is smeared with chocolate. Only a Borkazoid would eat that crazopia. 

Meredith, a quiet, translucent-skinned female with a perpetually leaky nose, whispers in my ear. Humans do this when they don’t want others to overhear. It’s puzzling, as they are largely deaf compared to other Earth species. “I heard a boy likes you.” She covers her mouth, eyes round like saucers.

Is it the burning evergreens that make my cheeks flush or a human circulatory quirk? I side-eye Meredith. I’ve been tricked by the female species before. The second night of camp, I awoke to my bladder leaking after my cabinmates submerged my varnyx in warm water. Three days later, the girls squeezed toothpaste onto my pillow, tangling my curls into clumps while I slept. And my frozen training bra remains a mystery. But Meredith was not a part of this deceptive group; she was a victim of such deeds herself.

I parroted the vernacular I’d heard other females use. “Oh yeah? There’s a couple that aren’t totally gross. Who is it?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she replied. I felt a strange disappointment. Meredith took a huge breath and continued, “I overheard Jenny telling Kristen because Jenny likes whoever he is, and she was mad about it and said Eve is a geek and how could he like her and Kristen said Jenny was way cuter, she wore Guess? jeans and has a Sony Walkman and that Eve probably stuffs her bra and then they laughed.”

A boy likes me over Jenny? Superiority surged through me, like when I trounced all other species at the Intergalactic Science Fair—but I hadn’t split an atom with a photospectrus here… While attempting to parse the emotion, I was struck squarely in the forehead by a roasted marshmallow missile. I froze, feeling the gooey glop topple down my nose. Guffaws erupted from the far side of the pit. Gawking at me through the campfire smoke with a Hershey-smeared grin was that Borkazoid bastard, Adam.

Fleeing to the cabin on stumbly bipodaries, my eyes began to leak saline. My frustration only made the watery excretion accelerate. And my face still bloomed with heat despite leaving the proximity of the fire! Meredith appeared behind me, offering a paper product used to absorb various bodily discharges. To my horror, this act of kindness set in motion another deluge. Meredith wrapped her lymbagies around my trunk, squeezing me tight. I felt a sensation of relief similar to an energetic autonervic cleanse.

“Don’t cry, Eve. You’re not alone.” Meredith declared, “You’ve got me for a friend.” I’d heard of this term but had been unable to decipher its meaning thus far. It dawned on me that emotional support and camaraderie were primary features of the concept. I wrapped my own lymbagies around Meredith and mimicked her embrace, grateful to her for defining friendship. Finally, some useful information to put in my report!

Day 28

With Meredith’s assistance, I am gaining comprehension surrounding human adolescent behavior. Unlike adults, the teenage temperament is largely unstable. Even without provocation, extreme emotions cycle through at a rapid rate. A camp counselor referred to the phenomena as hormonal mood swings. 

These temperamental oscillations only appear to be suppressed through emotional connection—like friendship. Meredith has informed me that all earth people seek out relationships, not just for survival, but to experience acceptance and love*. 

*Undefined concept at the present time

Just yesterday, Meredith received a care package to ward off homesickness. Defined, homesick is yearning for one’s planet of origin when living in a different environment. Meredith’s clan sent objects as reminders of their bond, including Fig Newtons, a photo of her pet zizoyte, and an artifact from her geologist father. 

I was intrigued the moment I spied her father’s gift. The object was comprised of hard, light-colored material, and when I held it up in the sunlight, I was astonished. “Wha-what is this?” I asked.

“It’s a Baltic fossil, made of resin called amber. It’s a really special artifact because it contains two specimens—see? Both a prehistoric spider and a fly… and their legs are touching!” I stared, rotating the piece, studying every angle. Meredith laughed and said, “Wow, Eve, you must really love bugs! As my best friend, I want you to keep it.”

When Meredith left for archery practice, I collapsed upon my bunk, cradling the amber. Saltwater slid down my cheeks, the term homesick now clear. Trapped inside the golden pitch were microscopic versions of a Xeresian and a Borkazoid, holding varnyxes.

Day 33

Despite missing Xeres, my scientific progress continues. I am pleased to report that while deciphering mood-relationship correlation, I have formulated a revolutionary hypothesis I’m calling Popular Theory!

Unlike Xeresian youth, who strive for individuation, human teens emulate the most admired of their peers in an attempt to blend in. The greater the conformity, the higher one rises in the social hierarchy. 

I tested this premise three nights ago when I observed the girls exiting our cabin in a crouching posture, whispering about meeting boys in the woods. Sensing a research opportunity, I crept along behind them, a reluctant Meredith in tow.

While we waited for the boys, I made throat noises called giggling. This sound is a useful device to hide my lack of understanding, although my research is still pending as to the female’s true objective when utilizing this modus.

When the boys arrived—Adam included—their leader, Greg, passed around a bottle of something called peach schnapps. Jenny took a swig and croaked, “Gnarly!” The boys har-har’d and the girls tee-hee’d. Next, Kristen took a gulp but choked, resulting in a wet, sputtering cough. The boys hooted; I laughed, but Jenny and Kristen pressed their lips together tight, looking at me with narrowed eyes. Kristen thrust the bottle into my varnyxes, whereupon I took three large swallows. Meredith gasped; the group fell silent, so I… giggled. Truth be told, my bipodaries wobbled, but when the group cheered, I felt a warm glow.

As the schnapps was passed around the circle, I caught Adam looking at me with a goofy expression. Turning to tell Meredith, I discovered she’d already left for the cabin. 

After the midnight rendezvous in the woods, events transpired that are conclusive evidence of Popular Theory. There is a general shift in attitude towards me. Jenny, Kristen and the rest of the girls now compete for my undivided attention. Proof positive—blending in by copying cool behavior has transformed me into an object of admiration. 

In the dining hall, the girls gather around me while we eat preservatives and discuss important topics. I am now considered an authority on the matter of male cuteness. From what I’ve deduced, this is a subjective opinion based upon the arrangement of features without logical basis. When asked whether I believe Adam is cute, I adopt a non-verbal response by sticking out my phlidaslep and am rewarded with group approval.

Day 38

Due to my cool status, my research has accelerated exponentially. With only two weeks remaining in the mission, I have uncovered why teens strive to be adored. Popularity is the portal to power! 

By continuing to duplicate the attitudes and fashion of the most-favored females, I have catapulted to the top of the ranks—supplanting Kristen as second-in-command to Jenny. This prestigious position bears the power to sway the opinions of lower wannabes. 

Acts of cruelty—like the tricks played upon me while I slept—and nasty remarks create a fear of group exclusion. Better to participate than be left out. To keep the less popular in line, intermittent compliments are bestowed. This is how power is retained. 

*Mannerisms Quick Reference Guide:

Tossing hair = flirtation

Hopping up and down while chirping = excitement

Blinking one eyelid at an individual = indication of interest

Pouting lips with simultaneous head tilt = petition of sympathy

Rotating eyeballs in a circle = defiance and/or sarcasm

Day 42

My meteoric social rise has come with an unexpected lesson. 

I was searching for Meredith to give her my newly hand-woven lanyard keychain when I bumped into Adam.

I tossed my curls over my shoulder and smiled at him. “Like, ohmygod, hi.” My thoughts towards him had softened after seeing the mini versions of us in amber.

“Hey. I came to tell you that if you want to say goodbye to Meredith, you should hurry. She’s leaving camp early.” 

“Wait—what?” Giddy was replaced with stomach-dropping surprise. “Why? Is she homesick?”

Adam kicked at a rock lodged in the dirt. “You hurt her feelings, Eve. Haven’t you noticed how sad she’s been?”

“Duh, totally. I’m her best friend.” I tried to act giggly, but a wretched feeling fell over me. I couldn’t remember the last time I sat next to Meredith… or even really talked to her.

“Well, her mom’ll be here soon. She’s waiting for her outside the nurse’s office.”

Without another word to Adam, I raced to find Meredith. I did not want her to experience the emotions that caused the saline seepage. I wanted to rewind time and spend every last minute with her—not Jenny or Kristen.

Spotting Meredith outside the office with her duffel bag, I waved my varnyx wildly at her, but she turned her back to me. “You can’t leave, Meredith!” I pleaded.

Without turning, she replied, “What do you care, Eve?”

“Because we’re best friends.” At this, Meredith whirled around to face me, her eyes bloodshot—a sign that sadness had already streamed out of her and I had not been around to offer her an absorbent paper product.

“Best friends do not ignore each other, Eve.” She took a large inhale and continued, “Best friends aren’t mean. Best friends don’t tell people that ‘Meredith has a leaky nose and she smells like bologna’ and then laugh with other girls who once put sand in your sleeping bag, but now, because they flatter you, you think they’re cool and that they really like you, but they’re all fake and… and...” She turned away from me again, her shoulders shaking. “You hurt me, Eve.”

As I struggled to find the right words to take it all back, to explain Popular Theory, a blue wood-paneled station wagon pulled up and an aging version of Meredith disembarked. Daughter ran to mother, both wrapping their lymbagies around each other tight. I regretted that I had not remembered this action moments ago. I could’ve comforted Meredith. 

Instead, I clipped the lanyard keychain made with her favorite colors to the duffel and stood by the office in shame.

The older Meredith asked, “Is that your friend over there, honey?”

For the first time since arriving at Camp Wataxche, I wished that I truly was human so that I wouldn’t have heard Meredith answer, “No, Mom, just another camper.”

Things did not improve as I slumped on a log at the campfire that night, listening to people sing about your land and my land. Adam sat down beside me and nudged my varnyx. “I’m sorry about Meredith. I really liked her.”

“No doy.” I rotated my eyeballs in a circle. I knew I was being mean, but I was miserable.

Adam tilted his head, studying me. “You used to be nicer, Eve.”

A supernova of embarrassment, rage and humiliation combusted within me. Even though I knew he was right, I projected piercing, harsh tones towards Adam. “Oh, barf me out! If I want a lecture on niceness—or anything for that matter—I would never ask an idiot Borkazoid!” I stood up, pointing at him. “Besides, YOU threw a marshmallow at ME, remember?”

Adam croaked, “But I was… trying to get your attention. I liked you…” His expression was like Meredith’s outside the nurse’s office. I realized I now understood the meaning of hurt before I ran away as fast as my bipodaries would allow.

Day 45

One week left at Camp Wataxche, and the rain hasn’t let up for the past three days. The campers are suffering from something called cabin fever, which explains my low mood and extreme fatigue. Whenever I look at Meredith’s empty bunk, I experience a sharp pain in my chest.

The girls think I am homesick and attempt to engage me in conversation, but I am unable to giggle since Meredith’s departure. In my absence, Kristen has regained second-in-command status, and I am in peril of social isolation. Somehow, I’m unbothered by my decline in rank, but I immediately want to go home when I overhear Jenny whispering about Adam holding her varnyx.

Maybe I am homesick after all.

Day 51

Final night at Camp Wataxche. In reviewing my notes, I am pleased that I have amassed a wealth of information to include in my report. Soon, I will be back on my home planet, where it will be easier to avoid Adam. My stomach flip-flops whenever I hear his voice, followed by sadness that he no longer likes me.

For now, I see him everywhere. With Jenny. His lymbagie around her shoulder. Sometimes their lips are pressed together. I’ve seen other teens engage in this behavior—even inserting their phlidasleps into each other’s mouths. I know it’s unscientific, but gag me!

The girls are talking about whose lips they want to press at the farewell dance tonight while changing into blinding, neon-colored outfits. I’ve decided to attend and observe in case there are any last-minute data-gathering opportunities. I’m sure Adam will be more interested in Jenny than scientific research.

Upon approaching the dining hall, I hear a tune that I recognize from Jenny’s Walkman, about a raspberry French hat. Inside, campers are gyrating underneath blue and magenta lights. The mood, music and colors have an uplifting effect. I wish Meredith were here. She would’ve loved it.

Across the room, I spot Adam standing by himself. I want to tell him that I didn’t mean those awful words that I said. I head in his direction with the overwhelming urge to make peace. I didn’t get to fix my friendship with Meredith, but it’s not too late to try with him.

As I weave around the lively dancers, the lights darken and a slow ballad begins. A female sings about time after time after time after time while the campers sway in pairs. I am three couples away when I observe Jenny—along with Kristen, Greg and more populars—pointing at Adam and laughing. I can tell by his red face and sad eyes they are being cruel to him.

Before I can reach him, Adam pushes through the crowd and out of the dining hall. I scramble to follow as he heads towards the clearing in the woods. When I catch up to him, Adam hurls the forgotten empty schnapps bottle, smashing it on a rock. Glass slivers explode in the moonlight as shiny saltwater tears slip down Adam’s cheeks. I know what to do.

As I advance across the clearing, Adam turns to see me. Before he can speak, I wrap my lymbagies around his trunk and squeeze.

Day 1—Home

“Just incredible work, you two.” Headmaster Gigo’s palps quivered. “Adam’s keen insights on machismo, male emotional suppression and strutting are unprecedented. And Eve—your detailed study of nonverbal female communication, the hierarchy of cliques and your breakthrough Popular Theory has advanced our comprehension of human juvenile behavior by light-years!”

Gigo glanced from teen Xeresian to teen Borkazoid, tapping his palps. “If I’m not mistaken, it appears you two, ahem, matured as well during this experience.” Adam peeked at me, rolling his large compound eyes. I stifled a giggle. “We’ll have a further debriefing after you’ve both had a chance to reacclimate.” Gigo waved a tarsus and locomoted towards the door. “Again, well done. You have made our solar system proud.”

Once alone, Adam imitated Gigo, using his antennae as palps. I waved my tarsus, mumbling, “Incredible work,” and both of us burst out laughing.

“Seriously, though,” I took Adam’s varnyx, “I’m happy you were at camp with me. I might never have gotten to know you otherwise.”

“Me too,” replied Adam. “I wanted to give you this.” He presented his chocolate-smeared ‘Watatime at Camp Wataxche!’ t-shirt. “You know, I can’t wear it because of… well… wings.”

I smiled, stomach flipping. “I love it.” Adam flapped his calypters in glee.

“I have something for you, too.” I slid Meredith’s fossil across the table to Adam. “So you will always remember our summer together.”

Laughing, Adam pulled me close, wrapping his six lymbagies around my eight bipodaries.

I pressed my lips against his—as it turns out, the most natural behavior in the universe—even co-mingling phlidasleps.